


Time and Regret

by MyLo (Loveaoi)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: For Me, How Do I Tag, M/M, Not Beta Read, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:47:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25893127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loveaoi/pseuds/MyLo
Summary: I'm terrible at writing so this is just for fun. Please let me know of any mistakes.John goes back in time to fix everything.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, others
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. Time Heals All Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to point out any mistakes, but this is just for fun, might not finish it. you have been warned, I have never finished a creative writing project, but I will try my best! Also this I tend to write between 12 to 3 am so it's a bit of a mess. sorry!

Time and Regret 

Chapter 1: Time Heals All Wounds 

John is, at his core, a very simple man. He liked warm tea, colorful jumpers, and helping people, but deep down he knew what he was. He joined the army knowing full well he could have made the scholarship, he followed Sherlock when he said dangerous and he could, and would, kill on demand. But right now, he was filled with the most intense regret! When Sherlock left, all he felt was pain like no other, and when Sherlock returned, he wanted him to feel the same pain. John did something he promised himself he was never going to do. He became his father in every sense of the word. 

“Your damned sister is a fag, John. I won't stand for no fags in my house, boy.” While John never gained his father’s homophobic mindset, fear gripped his soul when he started to feel an attraction for Sherlock. The same fear attacked him when Sherlock came back. 

“Your mother’s a whore, son. I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't mine, John. But a man who leaves his wife is worse than a whore, John.” What Sherlock called loyalty was just bullshit John couldn’t get over from his early childhood. When Mary shot Sherlock, he wanted to leave her right then and there, but fear lingered in his heart, Sherlock knew, of course, he knew, and decided to sacrifice himself for John’s peace of mind. Sherlock gave John a way out, and like a coward, John took it! 

“She betrayed my trust, son. She left me, only to come back with an extra mouth to feed, don’t even know if you're mine or not. And sometimes, that makes me angry, and I hurt her, but only because I love her.” And the final nail in the coffin, the beatings. John was always horrified when his father used to love as an excuse to hurt his mother, but John did the same thing. John loves Sherlock so much that the betrayals are so painful, he beats him. John can't help but laugh, his father always doubted his paternity; turns out they were carbon copies of each other. 

John drinks to forget the pain, something else he got from his father. He tries to limit it to only Fridays, but no one cared anyway. John laid there, in tears, while Sherlock played downstairs with Rosie. Honestly, Sherlock was a much better father than John. He could hear them playing. Rosie seemed to have broken a toy and Sherlock was offering to fix it. The last thing he heard before he drifted off to sleep was little Rosie complaining. “It wouldn't be the same, I wish it was yesterday! It wasn’t broken yesterday!” John was in full agreement with the sentiment. He dreamed of a small cottage with a bee farm, before waking up to a hail of bullets. 

“MEDIC! WHERE’S THE MEDIC? I NEED A MEDIC OVER HERE!” As Bill Murray called John was quick to get out of his daze. Nightmare or not, he was a doctor! 

“Bill! Help me turn him over! Hey, Don! Come put pressure on Tom’s stomach!” John does what he always does, he gives orders and heals people, until he sees Paul. His nightmares always end with Paul, a kid with someone special to go back to. A kid who ends his career and doesn’t make it anyway. A kid that allowed him to meet the greatest man who ever lived. He doesn’t hesitate. He saves Paul and- 

“WATCH OUT!” -he gets shot. 

“You’ll be okay John, just stay awake! I NEED A STRETCHER OVER HERE! Come on John, stay awake!” 

The pain was unbelievable, but this time, he closed Paul's wound and he knew he would meet Sherlock soon. Worth the pain. 

John awakens, admittedly, not in the best moods. 

“Ow, fucking shit!” 

“Whoa there, careful Dr. Watson. We don’t want to aggravate your wound now.” John stared in silence with gritted teeth as a doctor came into his room to check his records. “I’m Dr. Robbie Scott, your main physician. Everything looks good, the bullet entered and exited quite cleanly, only needed minor surgery. Should make a full recovery.” 

Full recovery? “No nerve damage?” John spits out between gasps of pain. 

“No, the bullet didn’t shatter, there’s no infection in the affected area. Once the morphine completely fades and you have finished your physical therapy course, you're good to go home in about three weeks. You were in and out for five days due to the medication so your wound should be healed enough for light movement in about another five days. You could also return to active duty if you wish in about two months, but you’re eligible for an honorable discharge.” 

So many things were similar to his past, from Paul to the unbelievable pain, but there was a huge difference. The choice of staying an army doctor or retiring. Before meeting Sherlock, being released from military duty was the single most excruciating experience of his life. He often wondered if he had left Paul or approached him from a different angle if things would be better. He’d have his job and would have never met that mad berk in 221B. There was only one thing he could say. 

“I’d like to go home, a friend of mine is starting a detective business and I promised I’d help him with that, and this tour was meant to be my last one anyway according to my contract, so.” Dr. Scott nodded and promised to help him with all the proper proceeding, he was going home. 

One month later he was in a different flat from his original one, but basically the same, He was working part-time as a surgeon and was not required to see a therapist. He was stable on the outside but was having a full-blown panic attack on the inside. HOW WAS HE GOING TO FIND SHERLOCK? No, finding him was actually simple enough through his website, BUT WHAT WAS HE GOING TO SAY? 

He stood in front of 243 Montague street. Actually, this was his second time standing here. No one was here the first time so he wandered around for a few hours in the British Museum, trying to calm down before giving it another go. 

“Get a hold of yourself Watson, you’re a soldier, you can do this!” But before John got a chance to knock for the second time that day, there was the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him. 

“This is the second time you have approached my flat, must mean that while the nature of the case might be boring, it at least seems important. Very well, come in.” 

There was Sherlock. He looked remarkably similar, but with one huge contra, he was missing his signature coat. John followed him in. 

The flat also felt strangely like home. The big pieces of furniture one found in 221B must belong to Mrs. Hudson, the only physical similarity was the mess. John sat at a random chair and waited. Sherlock must have just come home from a long case, he LOOKED exhausted and was more relaxed than usual. 

“How was the case?” John wanted to hit himself, the question just slipped out. Sherlock looked to not have noticed the familiarity and if he did, didn’t care. John gave a sigh of relief. 

“It was fine. The suicide of a young widow was discovered by her neighbor; he moved the body to make it look like murder to implicate his wife. Something looked wrong with the crime scene, but no one could figure it out, honestly, I was getting frustrated by Scotland Yard’s stupidity, but I knew I just had to wait it out because eventually, so would the murderer. He was panicking and wanted his wife gone so he planted more ‘evidence’, but he went too far when he tried to explain how his wife took a necklace, he had no way of knowing belonged to the victim. Only a six really, but the waiting was tedious. 

I am actually, currently, more interested in you. Etiquette dictates that one introduces themself when meeting someone new; you, however, did not, you showed no hesitation when entering a stranger’s home and you sat down without asking where. You asked how my case went yet looked regretful as if you knew that you were being too familiar, but couldn’t help yourself. Maybe delusional, but why? You’re a soldier who only just returned home from Afghanistan or Iraq, possibly a doctor as well who is not interested in a relationship, why would you be delusional about me. How would you even find out about me, you appear to be in no need of a private detective at the moment, yet showed no reluctance in being here, so why are you here?” 

“Amazing. How did you know?” And John was really amazed, while not as good as Sherlock when he tries his best, John still put a conscious effort into not leaving any tells about himself. Sherlock gave John a strange look but answered anyway. 

“Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military, your face is tan, but no tan above the wrist. You’ve been abroad, but not sunbathing. Although you try not to touch it there seems to be discomfort in your shoulder, possibly wounded in action, Afghanistan or Iraq. There is a note in your pocket used for prescriptions, unknown if your name is listed as the primary physician, but it is very unlikely a patient would use a blank prescription note to write down an address, so doctor. The very same note appears to have a string of numbers, interested party, but the fact you folded it to cover the numbers suggest you are not an interested party. Possibly in a relationship, but unlikely since you have only just returned recently. While you have visited twice you don’t appear to be rushing, so not urgent, your cloths, while well kept, are not new so you would not spend money on something like a private detective unless it was urgent. Forced? Some people ask a reluctant family member to call for a private detective when desperate, but you were eager to come in, not a family member then. What an enigma. So, possible Dr. John H. Watson, who are you?” 

“That was amazing.” John didn’t even notice when Sherlock pulled his note from his pocket, but he was still brilliant, as always. Sherlock seemed surprised by the compliment. 

“You think so?” 

“Of course it was. It was extraordinary. It was quite extraordinary.” 

“That’s not what people normally say.” hearing this John had a vague memory of this conversation and was already starting to smile. 

“What do people normally say?” 

“Piss off!” John could not help himself from giggling, but Sherlock soon joined in as well. 

“Well, they’re idiots, the lot of them, because you’re absolutely right, about everything! Sorry for not introducing myself, as you have deduced, I am Dr. John Watson, you can just call me John and I have a bit of a problem. You see I know the future; it sounds crazy, but I knew you in the future. I thought I was going mental. Thought I was in the future stuck in the past for a while, but everything feels so real, was the future I saw just a dream or delusion? But when I looked you up you appeared. I’m not a genius, criminal mastermind or one of your brother’s men, you could find all this out the moment I leave, so how do I know for a fact that you even have a brother, that your full name is William Sherlock Scott Holmes or that you have a history with drugs? I’m sure most of it was not on your website. 

John honestly felt a bit of satisfaction when Sherlock was left speechless.


	2. Time Waits For No One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Super short update, I was not in the mood to write, but I knew I had to or I would continue to skip update dates. Sorry about that.

Time Waits For No One

The satisfaction didn’t last for long as John remembered the reason he was there in the first place.

“I know it sounds crazy, but you were the one who once told me’ ‘Once you rule out the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be true.’ And I know how you work. I know you’ll check every aspect of my life until you’re satisfied, go ahead, just let me be here, with you, while it happens. Please.”

“Why?” Sherlock asked, for once, confused, people usually couldn’t wait to leave him.

“Because,” John said in a voice filled with heartbreak, “I have been a shitty best friend. And although you don’t remember it, I want to make it up to you.”

Sherlock did not know what to do. There was a strange man in his flat; on the verge of tears, claiming to be his past future best friend. Apparently, not a very good past future best friend. So he did what he always did when in a difficult situation, even if he will never admit it, he called Mycroft. Well, he texted. For his credit, Dr. Watson did not appear surprised at the knock on the door.


End file.
